


Sam Winchester and Tumblr

by NotWithABangButWithAWhimper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Peasants, Tumblr, fandoms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWithABangButWithAWhimper/pseuds/NotWithABangButWithAWhimper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Only my second spn fic, so let me know what y'all think and like and don't like and I don't bite I welcome help!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sam Winchester and Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> Only my second spn fic, so let me know what y'all think and like and don't like and I don't bite I welcome help!

Dean walked into the room as Sam laughed out loud. Wanting to be in on the joke, he automatically smiled and looked toward the TV…to see it wasn’t on. Actually, the lights weren’t on either. And was Sam in his boxers? Dean walked into the room as Sam laughed out loud. Wanting to be in on the joke, he automatically smiled and looked toward the TV…to see it wasn’t on. Actually, the lights weren’t on either. And was Sam in his boxers?  
  
“Sammy…?” Dean said softly, cautiously. “Whatcha doin’?”  
  
“Oh. Nothing,” Sam snapped his computer shut.  
  
“Having fun researching?”  
  
“Actually, ah, I haven’t started yet. Got distracted. You know, the internet.” Sam said hurriedly, pulling out jeans and a thermal, a flannel, an undershirt, a wife-beater, and a jacket to get dressed.  
  
Sam disappeared into the shower. Dean looked around the room, the only light coming through the curtains pulled tightly over the offending window, so it was dark with the pizza from last night still open and on the bed that…did Sam sleep in the bed with the pizza? Shaking his head, Dean cleaned up the congealed, now disgusting, food, turned on the lights, and threw the covers back up onto the bed. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Sammy just needs to get over whatever weirdness he’s got going on, because they have a poltergeist to take care of.  
  
Later in the car, Dean smashed his hand against the steering wheel. “What do you mean you haven’t done any research? You realize we have a poltergeist that’s hurting people to take care of right? What did you do all night?! You were still on the fucking computer when I finally came home and went to sleep. Was I the only one who did any work last night?!”  
  
“You went out to hustle pool!” Sam was defensive, triggering Dean’s red flags left and right. When Sammy got defensive of secrets it’s usually bad. Last time was Ruby.  
“Do you wanna do that research living out of Baby, Sammy?”  
  
“Dean.” Sam was up to a bitch face level 17 out of 25.  
  
“No, really, because I can stop getting money for us to actually have beds. I love Baby enough to sleep with her any day, do you? Jesus, you look like shit. How late were you up doing ‘nothing’ on the internet, anyways?”  
  
“I honestly don’t know. What time did you get home?” Bitch face level 22.  
  
“Three thirty.”  
  
“Oh. Well, I guess…maybe…two hours after that?” No more bitch face. Just…confusion? Did he really not know when he’d gone to bed, how long he’d spent up?  
“What did you do for that long?! Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy.”  
  
“I don’t know, Dean. The time just…passed.”  
  
When Dean remembered, he nearly slammed on the brakes and sent them both flying. There had been a witch about a week and a half back. Shit. He should have been looking out for curses. What were the signs? Sammy was losing time, not sleeping, was uncharacteristically lazy, what the fuck is going on.  
  
“I don’t know, Bobby! I didn’t see the witch do anything! We did standard checks for hex bags, through the car, our bags, even the arsenal.” Dean hissed into his cell phone, frustrated and upset, holding back biting remarks against the man he looked to like a father.  
  
“Don’t you dare get that tone with me, boy; I’m just trying to help. You called me. Remember that. It ain’t my fault you missed something.”  
  
“I didn’t miss anything, Bobby. We did cleansing spells, telling spells, we did everything we could think of. “  
  
“Come home, boy. We’ll figure this out. But get that poltergeist taken care of.”  
  
Dean nodded, said his goodbyes, and hung up. He’d feel a lot better when they had gotten back to Bobby’s.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

We were back at a bitch face level 14, not too bad, but that was mostly because the kid was excited to see Bobby again. It had been a while…  
  
“You know I’m not cursed.”  
  
“Then what the hell else is going on, Sam.”  
  
“I don’t know Dean! I’m not cursed, what is so wrong with me having something on the internet I enjoy.”  
  
“Then what is it, Sammy, what’s the website.”  
  
Sam’s lips clenched, racketing it up to a level 17 bitch face.  
  
“Wait. Are you doing all this over PORN? Sammy, you can just tell me you found a titty site and I’ll let it go. You fucking know that, why are you making such a big deal out of this, goddamnit Sam.”  
  
“It’s not a titty site, Dean!”  
  
“Then we’re going to Bobby’s.”  
  
Huffing, and folding his gigantic body down, slouched in the seat, Sam fell asleep.  
  
A few hours later, they knocked on the ragged door. Bobby opened, having grabbed the test box from the chair by the door. “Hold your breath, boys,” he growled before splashing holy water over them. Tossing silver penknives towards them, the boys nicked their arms, and flashed the protection sigils on their chests, whole and unbroken. Sam ran his hands through his bitch ass hair, pushing the wet strands out of his face. Dean scrubbed his hand over his head, sending spare drops of water flying, before they stepped out from under the Devil’s Trap scribed onto the porch ceiling and into the house.  
  
“Boys,” Bobby growled warmly, pulling them both into a short hug. The shorter man was a force to be reckoned with in their lives, and there wasn’t a lot they wouldn’t do for him. Sam looked at Bobby warmly, knowing the older man hated that when he hugged Sam, his head got nestled into Sam’s chest like a girl. Their hello’s and catching up finally done with about an hour later, Bobby looked at Sam. “Alright, sasquatch, what the fuck is wrong with you?”  
  
“Nothing, Bobby! Dean’s just over reacting, because I found something I like that’s taken a little time away from researching. It’s not a problem. I have it under control.”  
  
“Bobby, he spends all night up. Until four, five in the morning on some stupid website he won’t let me see. For all I know, he’s staring at a blank screen.”  
  
“I have lost the ability to can with you, Dean. I just can’t.”  
  
“…What?!” The two gruff men looked at Sam, bewildered and confused because this definitely wasn’t the Sam they were used to. “You’ve lost the ability to what?” Dean asked, fighting to keep a straight face, blush rising on his cheeks from laughter held in, his mouth stretched weakly into an attempted scowl.  
  
“Bobby, can witches get you over the internet?” Dean asked, after an awkwardly long, and bitch face filled pause.  
  
“Son, what the fuck do you think I know about the internet?”

  


\------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam had taken some money and gone out for food, saying nothing in Bobby’s house “Satisfies me, is this what you peasants eat?”  
  
He’d come back with a plastic barrel of cheese puffs. And then holed himself up in his room. With his laptop.  
  
Dean was pacing outside the door, wearing a hole in the floor. “You let me know when you break that floor and I’ll help you fix it, alright?” Bobby growls, laughter leaking into his gruff tones from the kitchen.  
  
“Bobby, something’s wrong! This isn’t Sam! This is…This is weird, okay!”  
  
“I don’t think Sam’s cursed, Dean. I think he’s just found something he’s distracted with right now. It’ll pass.”  
  
It didn’t pass.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean had actually gotten used to being called “peasant,”  
  
It’d been a few weeks now, with Sam spending all his god forsaken time on that website he still wouldn’t tell Dean the URL of. Sam had starting making a lot more TV show and movie references, which Dean appreciated…or would have, if it hadn’t all been off the nerdiest, awful shows Dean could think of. Who the fuck actually still watches Doctor Who? And why are there so many shows with that woman, Bernadet Caulderwatch? Fucking A. Either Britain only has 15 actors, or Sam’s just found the weird part of the internet. Probably both. Fuck.  
  



End file.
